Crazy Dreams
by Catatonic Muse
Summary: Written for marrissa gnokawitz's Hardest Challenge Ever on the HPFC forum. The point is to guess the character.


Written for **marrissa gnokawitz's Hardest Challenge Ever** from **Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges  
**701 words

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If you think I do, you should probably get your head checked.

Also, the quote "Sometimes our wildest craziest dreams are the ones we should believe in most!" belongs to marrisa gnokawitz.

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**Crazy Dreams**

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I step into the downpour and tilt my face up, letting the rain hide my tears.

She said it would be for the best. She said it would make all the difference.

It hasn't.

They've been together forever—she should know. I continue out into the rain, walking blindly toward something. Something that isn't just sitting still and thinking about _them_.

Why did I have to fall in love with someone so oblivious? So wrapped up in little things that he can't even notice what's around him. And why did he have to fall in love with someone so...vapid?

The smaller, more spiteful, side of my brain joins in. _It isn't as though she actually _likes_ him. She's just using him. She couldn't get anyone else, you know. How does it feel to be unnoticed by the last resort?_

I shove the voice away. If I let it, it will continue sitting in my mind in a plush armchair, sneering, lingering like a Malfoy. If there is one thing I've learned here, it's that one should never trust a Malfoy. And that all boys are insensitive gits.

I suppose I should say something profound now, like the rain is symbolic for my pain and loneliness, but really it is insignificant. It's Scotland, for Merlin's sake. It _always_ rains here.

I slosh around in the mud for a while, before arriving at the edge of the Black Lake. Or, at least, I think it was the Black Lake, although with the amount of rain we had been getting, it may have just been a rather large puddle. The downpour is so heavy that I couldn't see very far—certainly not enough to see to the other side of the lake.

Then I wade back up to the castle. I thought the lake and the rain would give me peace of mind, but all it did was make me very wet, cold, and depressed.

I look down at my thoroughly soaked shoes as I walk into the Great Hall. They are plain and rather worn. If I dressed like a tramp—like _her—_I glare as she walks across the hall, presumably returning from dinner—would he notice?

No, I decide firmly. I will _never_ make myself into something that disgusting, not for any boy.

She and her friend turn, stare, and giggle. It is at this point that I realize that I greatly resemble a drenched cat. It is with that thought that I squelch into the Great Hall, plop down beside my friend, and begin moodily loading my plate with food.

"I," stab, "Hate," stab, "Boys," stab, "So," stab, "Much!" I say.

"And you're completely ruining your meal in the process?" My friend asks pointedly, staring at my plate.

"Do you think I should give up on him?" I ask, completely abandoning my ruined supper.

She coughs on her brussels sprouts. "What?"

"I did everything you told me to, and he still doesn't notice," I say. "I'm beginning to think that he'll never think of me as a girl."

She does not respond immediately, and I begin to get angry as tears well up in the back of my eyes. I hate crying in front of anyone, and here I am about to break down in tears in front of the entire Great Hall. I hate myself, I hate him, and most of all, I _hate_ that disgusting little tramp.

My friend grabs my hands and holds them tight enough that they begin to hurt. "Never give up. It's not the Gryffindor thing to do. Now be brave and make your house proud!"

"Am I crazy for still liking him after all this time?"

"Sometimes our wildest, craziest dreams are the ones we should believe in most! And Gryffindors aren't known for being sane at the best of times!" She grins at me and begins drying me off.

I glare at her playfully. "I trusted you last time, and see where _that _got me?"

Maybe it is time to play the field, though. I consider the other males in my year, then gag. They're all so...immature. It seems I have no choice but to wait. Eventually all crazy dreams have to come true.

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